Everything about his countenance screamed gentleman.
I knew exactly who he was. Francois Theroux. And on the table next to him sat the newspaper. I zoomed in and then my breath caught and lodged in my throat.
That was today’s date. He wasn’t lying. I’d just spoken to Francois fucking Theroux.
The hairs on the back of my neck tingled, and as I turned slowly around, my gaze collided with East’s. What was it about that man? Even as I turned from him in the crowd, eager to get as far away from him as possible, I could still feel the heat of him behind me. The pull toward him. I tried to keep my eyes on the prize as I focused on the exit and getting the hell out of there.
But I underestimated him. Out of the banquet hall, I made a right down the hallway, and he just came out of nowhere, tugging me into a little alcove next to the restrooms. "Agent Kincade."
I jerked my body straight, desperate to get his hand off of me so I could avoid that zinging pulse of electricity. He released me easily, but we were still close. Too damn close. I felt his heat wrapping around me like a warm cocoon, promising stress release and safety, and many, many orgasms.
I shook my head a little to try and clear the fog. "What is it you want, Mr. Hale?"
The corner of his lips tipped into a wry smile. "So formal. Mr. Hale, or Lord Hale, is generally my father. My friends call me East."
"Are we friends? Is that what this is?"
"I don't know what this is. I feel like once you fight someone you have a window into their soul. I think we got off on the wrong foot. Maybe we can start over?"
I swallowed hard, trying to get a clean crisp breath that wasn’t pine and leather and didn’t make my head spin. "I just—I don't know. I find you lacking."
This time, he treated me to a full-blown grin. Christ, I was so screwed. Because with that easy smile and that peek of dimple in his naturally tanned skin, I was dumbfounded. Unable to breathe, unable to move. That was his true secret weapon. The smile stunned you. And then he went for the strike.
I forced my chin to tilt up. "Again, let me ask you, Mr. Hale, is there something you need?"
He chuckled softly. "Honestly, when you took off running, I didn't think we were done. I had to come and find you and talk to you at least. Clarify things. And I also wanted to return the shawl you left at the bar and see you to the door."
"There's no need for that. We didn't come together."
"And isn't that a crying shame?"
I should have moved away. I really should have, but there he was. He didn't even need to take a step toward me to crowd me. Just him standing there all tall and taking up space was all it took. He stole my breath right out of my lungs. “You know, Mr. Hale, I've met your friend."
"Which one? I have lots of friends." He cocked his head innocently.
"Oh, you know which one," I said. "Mr. Covington, like yourself, presents a pretty picture. And his girlfriend… Well, I guess, his fiancée now, I actually kind of like her. She's sassy. Direct. Takes no shit. I think they're a good match."
He nodded slowly. "I agree. But that’s their story. Don’t try and evade, Agent Kincade, how about us? Don’t you think we should pick up where we left off? For a start, will you come to their wedding with me?"
I blinked rapidly and jerked back. "What?"
"I’ve asked you on a date. Generally, how it works is one person asks the other one to accompany them. You know, to something like dinner or a movie or in this case a wedding. Which are boring, quite frankly. But I figure, since my friends are getting married, I could use a date. I don't usually take real dates to something so personal, because well, you never know what's going to happen with the bridesmaids. But since I know the bridesmaids pretty well this time, I think a date is in order."
"So, you're inviting me because you can't shag the bridesmaids this time? Is that what I'm getting?"
He shrugged. "It's as good a reason as any. Besides, you're beautiful. But I think you know that already."
I shrugged that off. My father had told me my whole life that beauty was in the eye of the beholder. And one day, someone was going to behold me that didn't find me beautiful, so I had better be smart. I had better be cunning. I had better use all the tools in my toolshed and not just my face or my body.
I hadn't really understood as a child. Mostly, back then, I’d just wanted my father to tell me I was pretty. It wasn't until I became an adult that I really realized why he couldn't say it. It was because I looked like her.
Exactly like my mother. And he must have still been mourning her. It probably hurt him to see me every day. But that was neither here nor there. Hearing East Hale tell me that I was beautiful did something to my insides. And if that something meant making my panties wet, then ding, ding, ding.
I licked my lips. "That's very kind of you to say, but looks don't matter."
"You're right. Looks don't matter. Some of the most beautiful people have the ugliest souls. But that's not the case with you, is it, Nyla Kincade?"
I cocked my head. The way he said my name sounded like something warm and sexy and throaty. Especially when he added that husky rasp to it. He made me want to peel off my panties and give them to him.
Stop it. Focus. Get the hell out of
